


Drowning in Flowers

by avianscribe



Series: Shatter My Universe [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Forgotten Relationship, Hanahaki Disease, Hospitalization, M/M, Pining, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianscribe/pseuds/avianscribe
Summary: When love can literally kill you, you grow up knowing to be careful where to let your affections lie. Prompto knew that. But apparently not well enough.





	Drowning in Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompto's story, from [Chapter 13 of Cracked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276621/chapters/42889277). It stands on its own; you don't need to have read Cracked.

Prompto knew better, he really did.

When love can literally kill you, you grow up knowing to be careful where to let your affections lie. It was part of the maturation program, even -- along with all the gross stuff, it also talked about _feelings_ and what to do about them.

Don’t indulge idle crushes. Acknowledge the feelings and then either let them go, or...

Confess. Always, because at least you can resolve things, even if the answer is _no._ You could get over a “no”.

And never pine. _Never ever._ Because pining was _deadly._ Pining was what caused the hana to take root and grow in your lungs until you suffocated.

Prompto _knew_ that. Had confessed a couple times, even, when his feelings got the better of him. Nothing had ever come of it -- but that was the _whole point,_ wasn’t it? To deal with feelings before they got out of control.

And then Noctis introduced him to his advisor.

Prompto had seen Ignis before. Ignis, just a year-plus-some older, was always there when the black car came to get Noctis from school -- even when they were in grade school, even before Prompto’d had the courage to ask Noctis to be his friend.

When Prompto and Noctis became friends that first day of high school, Ignis was the first to know. Noctis introduced them that very day. Ignis was probably the one who ordered a background check on Prompto, just to make sure he was worthy friend material.

Like _that_ wasn’t intimidating.

And Ignis was so. So much. Just so well put-together. Incredibly sharp, extremely athletic, perfectly stylish, on top of things… Never a hair out of place, even when things were going pear-shaped. It was hard _not_ to admire him.

But there’s a slight difference between admiration and the kind of appreciation Prompto started to feel for Ignis over time. And he should have picked up on it right away. That he didn’t was perhaps a personal failing that he needed to rectify… if he ever got the chance.

Because once you started coughing up flowers, you didn’t have many options left.

 

* * *

 

 

It started small, really. A cough here and there. He mistook it at first for a cold… and from the way the coughs made his throat feel, he was sure it was going to be bad. He made a batch of the lemon and honey tisane his mom had taught him to make, and dropped by the corner store for cough drops and got ready for it to hit him hard.

It didn’t.

It just… lingered. Over the course of a week his coughs got steadily worse, but there were no other symptoms -- just the cough. Then, after a particularly bad fit that had him bent double, there it was, in the palm of his hand: a perfectly-formed sylleblossom petal.

Prompto was in _trouble._ He knew better than this -- he should have nipped it in the bud long ago -- but now that the hana had taken root, it was too late.

He messaged his parents that night. They were out of the country, but they _needed to know…_ because _this_ time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up the nerve for that one crucial step.

Because it meant confessing to _Ignis._ To the guy he could barely say two words to without getting nervous. To the guy who always seemed to be looking down his nose at Noct’s plebe friend. (Not that Ignis ever really did that; he was pretty nice. That was part of Prompto’s problem, actually. It would have been easy to shake his feelings off on his own if Ignis had really been a snob.)

But Prompto didn’t hear back from his parents. That wasn’t terribly unusual; sometimes they couldn’t respond right away. He’d gotten used to that. But if he was going to need the surgery, he needed them to wire him money -- because hanahaki surgery was pretty major and wasn’t cheap, even with their insurance. He wouldn’t be able to do it on his own.

And then there was the _other_ problem… that if he had the surgery, it would neatly excise Ignis from his memories, too. Like that wouldn’t be awkward at _all,_ with Noct for a best friend.

So he tried to control it. Some people said that if you could keep from thinking about the object of your affections, you could stop the progress of the disease. This would be okay… he’d just cough up flower petals now and then. He could live with that. Right?

Except that as Noct’s friend, Prompto had a _really hard time_ just avoiding Ignis. He was kind of a permanent fixture in Noct’s life. Noct’s place was almost Ignis’s second home, and held too many reminders of Ignis, even when he wasn’t there. It was impossible for Prompto _not_ to think about him.

A week went by. Then two. The cough just got progressively worse. Every time Ignis left them treats, every time he gently smiled, every time he cooked for them in Noct’s apartment… even the way he shook his head in exasperation when Noct and Prompto left all their junk food wrappers around the room.

And Prompto continued to not say anything to Ignis. Tried not to think about him. Every day it grew harder.

 

* * *

 

Of _course_ he couldn’t keep it from Noct. They were _best friends._ It was only a matter of time. The only surprise was _how long_ it took.

It happened during a study session at Noct’s place. Prompto started coughing and couldn’t stop… and before he knew it, petals were slipping through his fingers.

“Prompto, what the…”

He looked up at Noct’s worried face and wide eyes. Prompto’s throat was tight with pain and his head light from the coughing spell and the deep mortification.

“Prompto…? How _long?_ ”

He found his voice then, raspy and thin. “A… few weeks ago, maybe? More than that, I guess…”

 _“Weeks?_ You’ve had this for weeks?? Why?”

Why hadn’t he confessed? Why hadn’t he put a stop to it when it began? _Why was he letting it continue?_

How could he possibly explain why? He rubbed at his wristband.

“I dunno,” he said finally. “I just didn’t think about it.” A lie. “And then before I knew it, there were petals.” True. “And now…”

“You’ve gotta _say_ something, Prompto…”

“I dunno if I can.”

“Of _course_ you can!”

“You don’t get it, Noct… They’re like, _way_ out of my league. They probably wouldn’t even give me the time of day if…” if Prompto wasn’t Noct’s friend. Seriously, that was the _only_ reason Prompto’s and Ignis’s lives even intersected at all. Without Noct, they could have both blissfully gone their way without meeting at all and Prompto would never inconvenience Ignis with his presence, like, ever.

But Prompto wouldn’t trade his friendship with Noct for _anything._ Not even a stupid pining that would never be returned.

“Prompto…” Noct’s voice broke a little and Prompto felt a surge of guilt. He hadn’t meant to make Noctis sad.

“Noct, it’s… it’s fine.”

“No, Prompto, it’s _not fine._ You need to tell them.”

“It's no use, Noct, they wouldn’t want someone like me.”

“... You don’t _know_ that.”

“Yeah, I kind of do.” He was fiddling too much with his wristband and willed himself to stop. But he couldn't stop thinking about what was _under_ it -- proof of an uncertain past, secrets even he didn't know. Secrets that someone high-born like Ignis wouldn't want to be tainted with.

“But what are you going to do?” Noct said. And his eyes were watery and sad.

And then Prompto’s chest constricted, and when he tried to breathe in the air wouldn’t come. He gagged for a heartbeat and then someone -- Noctis -- was pounding on his back, and whatever was choking him shifted. He hacked and coughed and his eyes watered and the thing that had been blocking his airway came up into his mouth -- and he drew out a single, perfectly-formed sylleblossom, damp with his own saliva.

Prompto didn’t even hear the door open, but he _did_ hear the rush of footsteps and Ignis’s soft but urgent “Is everything all right?”

Prompto looked up and met Ignis’s eyes -- soft, concerned, impossibly-green…

Prompto panicked. He dropped the flower, grabbed all his things and choked out a hasty “See you tomorrow” in Noct’s direction and plunged out the door. Through the hallway. Down the stairs (he couldn’t wait for the elevator)... the whole while, he coughed and coughed and petals stuck to his hand and he was sure he was leaving a trail of them in the hallway.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He _couldn’t._

 

* * *

 

The coughing kept him up all night. He barely slept between fits -- gasping, wracking coughs that left him with handfuls of blue petals, and sometimes whole blossoms.

He didn’t go to school the next day.

Aside from how miserable he felt _emotionally,_ he felt physically weak. _That_ was new. He probably wasn't getting enough air now that he was coughing up whole flowers rather than just the petals. It meant things in his lungs were progressing -- and not in a good way. For him. He was that much closer to death. And boy, wasn’t _that_ a cheerful thought.

He let himself sleep in -- or rather, he snoozed his first alarm and dismissed his second, and just lay there, trying to sleep. It was difficult.

Once school started, his phone pinged with texts from Noctis. He finally silenced his phone so he could ignore them.

Around eleven he finally got up, put on his horrible glasses (no one was going to see him, anyway) and fed himself some cold cereal. He wandered the empty house aimlessly for a while… then he sat down and tried to find something on the streaming service that could interest him. He settled on some kitten rescue show and curled up under a blanket.

A knock on the front door startled him out of a half-doze. On the screen, someone was trying to coax a tiny calico out of a drain pipe -- and he blinked at the TV in confusion for a moment before it registered that _someone had knocked._ So he made his way to the door, stifling the occasional cough. He pulled the door open and squinted out, blinded by the daylight.

Ignis stood there. Perfect, composed, concerned-looking, and _on his front porch._

Prompto blinked, uncomprehending for a moment before he realized… _Ignis was on his front porch._ He thought of his bed head and the glasses and the pajamas he hadn’t changed out of yet and he hadn’t even had the decency to bathe this morning, he must stink something _awful._ His face burned. He couldn’t even say anything.

“...Prompto?” Ignis ventured. “Noctis asked me to come check on you. He was worried.”

“...Oh,” Prompto said. His voice was thready and thin. _Stars, THAT was intelligent-sounding._

And still he let Ignis stand on the doorstep. His chest constricted.

“Can I… get you anything?” Ignis said. “Noct wanted to invite you to dinner tonight, but if you are unwell…”

Oh Astrals, Ignis wanted to help. He was… just so good. Prompto thought he might cry.

“No, no--” he started, but the words caught in his throat and he coughed -- and coughed, and coughed and covered his mouth with a hand. He saw Ignis reaching for him and backed away, still coughing -- and the petals, Astrals, the petals. His hand filled, and overflowed, and in humiliation he watched them flutter and spin to the ground.

“Prompto, I--”

“I’ll be -- *cough* -- fine, please, Ignis, please go--” Prompto said -- but then he tried to breathe in and the air just stopped. He wheezed. Then another hacking cough pushed a flower into his mouth. He spat it out. It was getting worse. _Ignis being here was making it worse._

“Prompto, sit down; I’m taking you to a clinic this instant.”

And then Prompto truly panicked. There was no way he could afford the options a clinic would give him. If he could only get Ignis to leave, he’d be able to calm it down on his own. It might only postpone the inevitable, but...

He tried to shake his head, but he was almost bent double with his coughing. He sank to his knees in the doorway. And then --

And then Ignis was kneeling beside him. Ignis’s hand was on his back, rubbing in circles, soothing. Prompto couldn’t back away; he could only cough and try not to lean into the contact he craved.

His coughing at last subsided, and he eyed the last of the petals fluttering to the ground. He took a deep breath.

“Igs, really,” he said at last in a scratchy, weak voice. “You don’t need to do this; I can get myself to a clinic, I’ll be fine…”

“Prompto, you’re nowhere near fine,” Ignis said. “And would you really take yourself to a clinic?”

Prompto rubbed his biceps. Ignis really had him there. He had no intention of going to a clinic -- not with no money, and his parents still incommunicado.

Ignis nodded. “I’m just going to send a quick message, if you don’t mind getting some shoes on and make yourself ready to go--”

“But Ignis, I--”

“Do you have a favorite general practitioner?”

 _Of course not._ When was the last time, _really,_ that Prompto had managed to see a doctor? So long he couldn’t really remember. He shook his head. “No, but I--”

“Would it be acceptable to you to be seen at one of the Citadel’s clinics?”

 _What??_ Those fancy Crown doctors would charge an arm and a leg! “Igs--”

“I will see to it that it is free of charge.”

That broke him. He had his mouth open, ready to argue, but if he’d learned anything at all about Ignis, it was that he was tenacious. _Stubborn_ was probably a better term. And Prompto didn’t have the energy for this fight. He slumped and nodded.

Then Ignis ushered him inside and pulled out his phone. Prompto fled. He wouldn’t have much time before Ignis came looking for him, so he opted against a shower -- against changing out of pajamas, even -- and just ran fingers through his hair and hunted down his shoes. He managed to remember to shut off the TV, then grabbed his wallet, phone and keys and stuffed them into one of the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

By the time he made it back to the front door, Ignis stood, arms folded, just waiting. Prompto had made _Ignis_ wait. He felt a little ashamed (even though part of him wondered why, because Ignis had actually come over uninvited, and really, whose house was it anyway and _Stars_ he was glad Ignis couldn’t hear his thoughts right now). But -- after a quiet moment where Prompto was beginning to be sure Ignis was _staring_ \-- he just smiled and told Prompto that Noct had promised to copy his notes from all their shared classes. Then he gestured to the car.

Prompto gave in.

As they started towards it, Ignis cleared his throat. “Noct would still be delighted if you joined us for dinner tonight, if you’re feeling up to it. We’re having curry.”

Curry. Prompto’s favorite. Ignis sure knew how to hit him where it counted. “Sure,” he mumbled, then tried and failed to muffle another cough.

“Excellent,” Ignis said, and pulled the passenger door open like he was some kind of chauffeur. Prompto knew he was blushing again and climbed in to try to hide it.

Ignis closed the door behind him and walked around the car… and Prompto just sagged against the door. He peered out through the fog his breath made on the window as they drove. The silence between them felt oppressive. Some tiny part of Prompto’s mind registered that this would be the _perfect opportunity_ \-- that he really should say something, _anything_ \-- that he could resolve this without inconveniencing anyone else but himself, with the possibility that he would have to stop being Noctis’s friend in order to avoid the embarrassment of seeing Ignis _ever again…_

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he sat silent in the car, coughing every now and then and slipping the resulting petals and blossoms into his pocket. He could feel Ignis eyeing him when his eyes weren’t on the road, and it made Prompto’s spine itch.

At last the longest-car-ride- _ever_ was over and they were at the Citadel… and Prompto tried not to be embarrassed about being at the Citadel in his pajamas while Ignis ushered him through hallways and security checkpoints and into the heights of the tower where the Citadel clinic was housed.

It just so happened that the Citadel was home to the famed Spero Hanahaki Treatment Center. Prompto guessed it had something to do with royalty and fraught political marriages or something; they had to take really good care of royalty, who couldn’t always _be_ with the person they fell in love with. The general public benefited from their research into treatment.

If Prompto didn’t feel so miserable, he might have thought he was lucky.

Ignis made arrangements with the front desk, and took care of the paperwork. The staff took one look at Prompto and scheduled an exam room. Then Ignis asked if Prompto wanted him to stay. Prompto’s anxiety spiked. He waved Ignis off. “No, no… You’re a busy guy; you don’t need to waste your time on me.”

“It would be my--”

“Please, Ignis.” And this time Prompto met Ignis’s eyes. His own prickled with unshed tears, and he took a deep, shaky breath -- only to have it catch in a cough that produced more petals. They fluttered to the floor; he didn’t even try to catch or hide them. “Thanks for… for this,” he wheezed. “But I couldn’t ask you to do more.”

He saw Ignis hesitate. He really was going to fight this, Prompto feared… but then Ignis nodded. “Text Noct when you need to go home, and he’ll let me know; I can drive you.”

Of course. Because Ignis was _just that nice._

“And I do hope we’ll see you for dinner tonight,” Ignis said.

Prompto mustered up a smile. “Y… yeah,” he said, even though he was pretty sure it would be impossible.

 

* * *

 

The clinic’s assessment didn’t take long. Turned out Prompto was a classic critical Stage 4 presentation of the disease. It might not even have mattered at this point if he _did_ confess; the hana’s roots had already taken a deep hold in his lungs.

But _treatment_ would take a long time. Would mean more trips to the Citadel. Would mean more trouble for everyone. So when the doctor asked her first question -- “Do you want to confess? Because there are treatment options with that in mind; they may or may not work at this point, we’d have to run assessments...” -- Prompto just shook his head.

Because of his low oxygen levels, they admitted him almost immediately and scheduled surgery for the next afternoon. The doctor was kind, but insisted it would do him no good to wait. She asked if Prompto wished to say anything to anyone before his surgery (which was a not-very-subtle way of saying “send a message to the cause of his disease while he still remembered who it was”) and Prompto shook his head again.

It was a lost cause, anyway. It didn’t matter.  

After they settled him into a private room in the hospital wing -- got him hooked up to all sorts of monitors and to oxygen -- Prompto sent a text to Noct to let him know what was going on and to not expect him for dinner. His phone sort of exploded with replies after that. Enough that he at last heaved a heavy sigh and set the phone aside.

He may have dozed; it was hard to say. The bed was far from comfortable and he couldn’t quite get used to having a cannula under his nose, but he’d been sleeping like crap for so long and he was exhausted. The next thing he knew, a slight noise at the door caught his attention and he turned his head to see Noctis standing there, with Ignis at his shoulder. Ignis was holding a small, plastic food container.

“Hey,” Prompto managed, but his voice was scratchy.

“Hey,” Noctis said softly -- and even though he smiled, his face looked worried. “Um. Since you couldn’t come to dinner, we brought dinner to you.” Noct gestured to Ignis, who stepped forward and held the container out to Prompto.

Prompto gingerly took it and brought it to his nose. _Green curry._ The rich aroma made his stomach gurgle. Ignis’s curry was so amazing and one of the reasons Prompto was so smitten with him and _Astrals why did it have to be this way?_ He managed a small “thanks” but even that much speaking triggered his coughing again -- a quick hack that turned into a wheezing fit.

Ignis grabbed the food from him before he could drop it, thankfully (and wouldn’t that have been a tragic waste!) and Prompto felt a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away and then all he could think of was Ignis having spent time cooking something that he _knew Prompto liked_ and why wouldn’t his coughing stop? It usually stopped by now and he just _couldn’t breathe--_

And then a nurse was there waving his friends away, telling them they needed to go -- and then they were checking his monitors and pulse -- and then he wheezed and hacked again and pulled a fully-formed blossom from his mouth. He stared at it.

“You okay, sweetie?”

He blinked up at the nurse. She smiled kindly at him. “Sorry; your friends can visit again when you’re more stable,” she said. “Here, I can take that…” And she held out a paper towel in her gloved hands and gestured for the flower he held. He gave it to her and she quickly wrapped it up and discarded it in a bin.

Prompto stared at the food Ignis had set aside. He could smell it from here, and his stomach growled.

“Could I…” Prompto ventured, and then paused. He was about to have surgery; they probably didn’t want him eating anything.

The nurse seemed to know what he was asking. “You still have some hours. If you eat it now, it should be fine. Do you need a spoon?”

Prompto nodded, and soon he was eating Ignis’s curry. And it was so, so good… and wasn’t _that_ the worst feeling ever, to know that he was going to forget Ignis’s amazing cooking, and every little kindness Ignis had ever done for him. Prompto finished off the curry, then stared at the empty box in his lap, silently weeping.

 

* * *

 

He wanted to say he slept well. He was exhausted enough that he should have. But he was having surgery in the morning, and his nerves had him shivering half the night -- and even when he managed to relax, his coughing kept him awake.

More than once he second-guessed what he was doing. More than once he thought he should just confess. Then his anxiety brain helpfully trotted out all the ways that could go horribly, horribly wrong. He finally half-dozed -- but when the nurses entered at 6 am to check on him, they woke him from a fitful dream with the memory of Ignis, lip curled with disdain, telling him not to aspire above his station.

He coughed and coughed, couldn’t breathe -- and he barely registered that the nurses were tensely discussing him over his head, that they thought he couldn’t wait, because he was too busy pulling one blossom and then another from his mouth as he coughed them up. And they kept coming -- all the while as the nurses bathed and prepped him, as the surgeon marked him. His coughs left him gasping, but they finally calmed, and one of the nurses gently gripped his shoulder and told him that they’d take him to the operating room in another thirty minutes, as soon as everything there was ready.

Then Noctis walked in.

Prompto blinked at him a few times, not sure immediately that he was really _there._ Because why would Noctis be up at this time of the morning?

As though Prompto had asked aloud, Noctis said, “I asked them to keep me posted. They let me know they’d moved up your surgery.”

“Oh,” Prompto said. His voice creaked.

“You… okay?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. He wasn’t, not remotely. Maybe wouldn’t be for a long time -- but how could _he_ know? When he woke up after surgery, everything would be different. He’d be the same -- but it would be as though he’d never met Ignis, ever. How would that change his memories of Noctis? Because Ignis was so ingrained in everything they did together.

He couldn’t think about that. Not now. It was too late now.

Looking at Noct’s face, Prompto could tell he didn’t buy the lie. He looked sad.

“Um.” Prompto said into the awkward silence. “Tell Ignis…” He breathed in. He could do this. He could… he couldn’t. “Tell him thanks. For the… curry.” His breath hitched and he realized his face was damp and as soon as he noticed that a sob escaped him -- and then he couldn’t stop.

He barely felt Noctis sit by him on the bed, barely felt Noct’s arm wrap around his shoulders. He leaned into the hug and pressed his palms into his eyes, and took a gasping breath between each sob, trying to calm himself.

They sat there like that for what felt like a long time -- and then the nurses came in and shooed Noctis away, assuring him they’d fetch him once Prompto was awake in recovery.

And this was it. They wheeled him to the surgery room, and he was shaking. They transferred him to the uncomfortable table. They hooked up sensors to his chest. And while the nurses prepped his IV, the anesthesiologist gave him a quick rundown of what to expect. Then they had him lay down. He watched the bustle around him and wished he would stop trembling. Then someone by his head was telling him to count down from ten, and he started to...

… And then he blinked groggily, and squinted up at the ceiling tiles above him. He couldn’t quite make out the details. He seemed to have misplaced his glasses and for a moment that seemed really important. He tried to ask about them but all that came out was a froggy noise --

His throat hurt. His chest did, too, but it was a distant hurt, as though through a fog.

“You back with us?” someone said near his head, and he tried to turn to look at whoever-it-was but he didn’t quite seem to have control over anything yet.

“Nnnngh,” he managed. His throat was dry. Why was his throat dry?

“Here,” the someone said, and then there was a straw in his mouth and he sipped at it gently and the cool wet was a relief on his throat but also hurt a little, and he vaguely wondered why that was, and then he blinked -- and someone _else_ is there, opening a curtain and letting more light in and Prompto felt like maybe he was slightly more with-it this time, but he still had a lot of questions… He was in a hospital and it felt like maybe he should know why, but he wasn’t sure that he did.

Then he saw a large blur walk in -- and it resolved into Noctis, carrying the largest chocobo plush Prompto had ever seen.

Prompto stared, eyes shifting from the plush to Noctis.

Noctis gave him a soft smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmmfine,” Prompto slurred. Somehow he couldn’t quite get his voice to work properly. “Tired. Throat hurts.” His voice crackled embarrassingly, but he didn’t want to clear his throat and make it hurt more.

Noctis hesitated, then lifted the chocobo. “Brought you something,” he said.

Prompto gasped. “For me?” he said, and raised his hands to reach for it. When he couldn’t quite reach, he made grabby hands at it. Noctis settled it in his lap and he immediately squeezed it close and buried his face in its fuzz. It was so soft. And the fur felt so nice on his skin. He stroked it. “Who’s a good chocobo, you are, you are,” he murmured into it.

He heard Noctis’s low chuckle.

“You knew exactly what he needed,” said a strange, accented voice -- and Prompto finally noticed that Noctis wasn't alone. Behind him stood a young man -- taller, slender, and so sharply dressed. Put together. He was smiling.

Prompto’s old anxieties surged. Why would Noctis bring this person in when Prompto was clearly not doing great (some kind of surgery? for some reason Prompto wasn't sure what for), and why was he acting so familiar with the prince? Prompto had met everyone in Noct's life. He thought, at least. Even the King. Then he had a sudden swell of anxiety that Noctis had gone and _replaced him overnight_ and that was patently ridiculous. But now that the thought had raced through his mind, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that this new person -- this interloper, with his fancy accent and immaculate dress -- might finally convince Noctis that he should find friends more worthy of his position. 

But Prompto didn't quite say any of that. No, what came out of his mouth finally was, “Umm… Noct, you… made a new friend while I was out?”

And that could have been worse. At least it opened the discussion. But it didn't quite prepare Prompto for the look of dawning horror that bloomed on Noct’s face, the way he stared between Prompto and the new guy. Prompto couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong, but something definitely was.

The new guy's smile vanished. For a heartbeat Prompto thought he looked surprised, but he immediately covered it up with a perfectly-sculpted neutral expression. “Excuse me,” he said. “Highness, I'll just be in the waiting area.” And he was gone.

Prompto quickly composed a whole “you can have whatever friends you want, it's all good” speech but before he could open his mouth, Noctis said, “That's… That's Ignis. He's my… my advisor.”

“... Oh.”

If Prompto wasn't mistaken (and he was pretty good at reading Noctis now)... Noctis was upset.

“Advisor?” Prompto felt himself say. “Then… why haven't I… met...”

Prompto tapered off because a couple things were _really_ wrong. First, he thought he _could_ remember that Noctis had an advisor and part of him was certain they _had_ met. But another part -- a larger part -- couldn't remember for the life of him who it was, and he _never_ forgot a face. Second, Noctis now wore an expression that Prompto had never seen before in his life and he was fairly certain that Noctis was _furious_ and he was afraid that somehow it was _his fault_ but he had no idea what he'd done and so he had no idea how to fix it.

The anesthesia was still working its way out of his system, so Prompto’s first response to distress was to tear up. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Noctis, and that’s _exactly_ what he was going to do if Noctis kept looking at him like that. Maybe Noctis sensed it, because he backed out of the recovery area with a quiet “I’ll be right back” and disappeared around the curtain.

Prompto buried his face in the chocobo plush. He was crying, but he didn’t know why. Each sob burned his throat like fire, but he didn’t know why. Everything was wrong, and he was sure it wasn’t just the residual anesthesia.

The nurse hovered anxiously around him, making soothing and scolding noises at the same time (“It’s okay, you’re okay, you mustn’t cry, you’ll aggravate the surgical site”) and Prompto tried to control his breathing -- tried to stifle his choking sobs -- but it took some time before he calmed, and was finally able to wipe the tears from his eyes. He’d made a wet mess of the chocobo plush and he felt pretty bad about that.

And then the curtain jerked aside and Noctis stomped back in.

Prompto jumped and gasped -- which hurt his chest. Of course. He couldn’t help a wince.

“Sorry,” Noctis said. “I just… had to go hit something. I mean,” and he took a deep breath, “I just… went and told Ignis he didn't have to wait. It might be a bit.”

Prompto blinked at him. “I…” but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Noctis pulled a stool up to Prompto’s bedside and sat. He put a tentative hand on the blanket and pinched at it. “I, ah…” he started, and then sighed. “You probably can’t remember why you’re here, can you.”

That wasn’t a question. Prompto gave the tiniest shake of his head.

“You, ah…” and Noctis grimaced. “You had hanahaki.”

“I… _what?”_

“You had it removed.”

Prompto just stared. “I did? But… but _why?”_

“Yeah, that’s what I asked _you_ , when I found out you were sick. I mean, seriously. You know better than that. Except apparently not, you dork.” And he mock-punched Prompto in the shoulder.

“You’re the dork,” Prompto muttered. He was kind of glad Noctis felt like joking at him -- though it almost felt like he _meant_ it when he said “dork”, and that kind of hurt a little. Then a thought occurred to him. “Do you… I mean, it wasn’t _you,_ obvies, but -- do you...”

“Know who it was? Yeah.”

“Oh…” Prompto said. He didn’t like the flat face Noctis had on -- the one he made when he was unhappy about something. Prompto had made Noctis unhappy and now he just wanted to sink through the floor and disappear forever, because it was the suckiest feeling ever. “Was it… was it someone at school?”

“NO, it wasn’t someone at school, sheesh.”

Prompto flinched at Noct’s tone.

“Highness,” the nurse interrupted softly, “perhaps let's get him out of recovery before you have this discussion.”

“Yeah,” he replied, then softer, “yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Once Prompto was able to stand without assistance and walk himself to the bathroom, the clinic said he could go -- but requested that he stay within the Citadel’s residential suites for monitoring over the next 24 hours. (Noctis conveniently offered his rooms and use of his gaming consoles. Truly magnanimous.) Looking over the discharge papers, Prompto made the unfortunate discovery that all his admittance paperwork (including the financials) had been signed and approved by one _Ignis Scientia._

 _Ignis…_ the name of the guy who'd been with Noctis when he came in.

_Ignis had been with him when he came to the clinic._

Prompto chewed on that thought all the way to Noctis's rooms.

Once there, Noctis got him all situated on the leather sofa, wrapped in a blanket and everything, with his giant chocobo for a pillow. Noctis sat at Prompto’s feet and hugged one of the super-fancy suede designer pillows that came with his super-fancy couch.

Then they sat in silence. Prompto, because he was still a bit out of it; and Noctis for… Noctis reasons. Prompto guessed that it had to do with whoever it was that he'd grown the hana for. Noctis was upset because… because Prompto had chosen to forget someone rather than fess up. Someone they both knew.

And Prompto could put two and two together, even hopped up on pain meds. He was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“Noct, I'm… I'm sorry,” he finally said.

“What for?”

Prompto picked at his blanket for a moment. “I just--” he started, then took a deep breath. “I feel like I really messed up.”

Noctis side-eyed him. “I'm sure you had a good reason,” he said, “but I doubt we'll ever know what it was.”

Prompto snorted. Yeah, whatever reason he’d had, it was gone with the hana. “Trust me to mess things up.” He bit his lip. “It… it was your advisor, wasn't it?”

Noctis’s head jerked up and he stared wide-eyed at Prompto.

“Wasn't it?” Prompto pressed.

“Look, Prom--”

“No, I…” Prompto took a deep breath. This hurt more than his surgery site did, but… it was better to get it out now. “I know this is gonna make things pretty awkward, and… if, you know, you need some space, or think I shouldn’t come over anymore…”

“Prom, that’s--”

“I get it, really, Noct, I screwed up _bad_ and I understand if you need some time to--”

“Will you shut up and listen to me?”

Prompto bit his lip again.

Noctis sighed into the pillow on his lap. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna kick you out for _this,_ I'm not -- I'm not like that.”

Prompto exhaled. He wasn’t sure he believed it yet, but… he let some of the tension drain from his shoulders and relaxed into the couch.

“Look, ah…” Noctis started, and then he pursed his lips. “We’ll just have to start at the beginning again. You need to properly meet Ignis, because he’s around me _all the time._ And… it’s going to be pretty awkward, because you’ve met him already. Like, two years ago.”

Prompto felt his eyes go wide. “Two… _years?”_

“Uh, _yeah,_ doofus,” Noctis said. “He’s been around since I was five. So. It’s like a package deal. Friends with me? You have to deal with Ignis.”

 _“Five?_ He became your advisor when you were _five?”_

“Well… he wasn’t really an _advisor_ so much when we were little, but… he’s kind of like a brother to me.”

“And… I knew him before.”

“... Yeah.”

Prompto let that sink in for a while. Two years of study sessions and game nights with Noctis… and Ignis had apparently always been in the background. Somewhere. But Prompto didn’t remember. He just remembered games and studying and.. sometimes… the most amazing… food…

Pain spiked through his head and he decided not to pursue that thought right away.

“Just wait till you try his cooking…” Noct was saying, his voice soft and muffled by the pillow. “You get to try it all for the first time again.” The sad smile he gave Prompto was like a dagger in his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime after that Prompto fell asleep -- and when he woke, Noctis was playing a first-person shooter. Prompto blinked the sleep from his eyes and yawned.

Noctis spared him a glance, before focusing on his game again. “How’re you feeling? Need some pain meds?”

After a quick self-assessment, Prompto shook his head. The pain was There, but wasn’t bad. Not yet, anyway. But he didn’t have a clear idea of when he’d taken meds last, or when he was due for more. He hoped Noctis had. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Just after noon,” Noctis said.

And then Prompto’s thoughts caught on something. “Wait, isn’t today a school day?”

“Yeah…?”

“Why aren’t you _there?_ ”

“Dude. My best friend had surgery because he was going to die? And his parents aren’t home? I’m not going to school. You need someone taking care of you.”

“And they’re just… letting you?”

“Ignis cleared it.”

Ignis again. Prompto wasn’t sure what to say, and settled into an uneasy silence. Noct kept playing -- but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. When his avatar died in a little shower of blood, he sighed and set the controller down. He slumped back in the couch and was still for some time, but he kept taking a breath like he was about to say something -- and Prompto was about to call him on it when Noct’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and swiped at the screen.

“I… got a thing,” he said. “Will you be okay by yourself for thirty minutes?”

“Yeah, sure,” Prompto said.

Then Noct set him up with the game controller and a racing game he didn’t have to think much about, and Noct was gone.

Prompto played for exactly one and a half races, and gave up. He put the console to sleep, but didn’t want to get up and turn off the TV, so he just sat back. His chest was really starting to hurt now. He felt like he needed to cough, but he really didn’t want to because he knew it was going to hurt.

Noct’s chambers at the Citadel weren’t like his apartment. They were too quiet. Prompto couldn’t hear the cars and bustle of Insomnia. He only heard the occasional tramp of footsteps in the hallway outside.  

He dozed for a while, and only woke when the door opened again. He blinked at Noct’s silhouette in the doorway. “Hey, buddy,” he mumbled.

And then he noticed that Noctis wasn’t alone; that “new” guy -- Ignis -- had followed him in.

Ignis looked uncertain, and there was a twist to his otherwise stoic mask that made Prompto think that there was a lot going on under the surface. But Prompto had no idea how to read him. He probably could have at one point, but not anymore.

“Prompto,” Noctis said in what Prompto knew as his Royal Tone, “this is Ignis Scientia. My advisor.”

At this point Ignis probably should have put out a hand to shake. Instead, he hesitated and picked at one of his thumbnails. “Prompto?” he said.

Prompto managed a half-smile. “Ah…” Words fled. This was the most awkward situation he’d ever been in, and that counted the one time he’d walked in on Ms. Tellus, the biology teacher, in the gender-neutral bathroom at school when she hadn’t locked the door. There was no way Ignis wouldn’t know what was going on. If he was Noctis’s _advisor,_ then he had to be smart.

Ignis pulled the ottoman closer to the couch and sat, stiff and straight.

Prompto eyed him uncertainly. “Did Noct tell you…?” he ventured.

“He didn’t have to,” Ignis said.

Of course. Ignis probably figured it out as soon as Prompto hadn’t recognized him in recovery. Prompto felt his smile crack a little. “I… guess I need to apologize.”

“That’s… quite all right,” Ignis said, but it was quiet, and Prompto wasn’t sure he meant it. “I'm…” Ignis hesitated, swallowed, then opened his mouth to try again. “I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't confide in me,” he said at last.

Prompto wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. And honestly, _hearing_ that Ignis wasn't truly a stranger to him didn't keep Prompto from _feeling_ like he was. He swallowed and tried to keep his nerves from rising up to strangle him. “Um…”

“Prompto,” Ignis said, and his voice was so gentle. “You don't have to pretend that you know me.”

Prompto reluctantly met Ignis's eyes. And there he found… sorrow, he guessed. Sorrow he'd put there. He looked away. “I can't pretend,” he said. “I'm pretty bad at it.”

Noctis snorted.

“Well, I _am,”_ Prompto said.

“You kinda pretended you were fine until you couldn't anymore, Prom.” Noct's tone was dry. “I think you're better at pretending than you think.”

Prompto laughed nervously. He didn't want to admit that Noct had a point.

“Don't pretend you're friends already,” Noctis said. “Just… start over. And be yourself.”

“I considered you a friend,” Ignis said. “I would certainly like to do so again.”

Prompto laughed again -- and to his surprise, it was real. Ignis answered it with a soft smile of his own.

“Start over…” Prompto said. “I guess I can do that.” Then he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ignis.”

Ignis took his hand. “The pleasure is mine, I'm sure,” he said.

“You don't have to lie, Ignis; you know what you're getting into,” Noct said, almost under his breath.

Prompto didn't slug him, but only because Noctis was too far away.


End file.
